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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25030693">Rain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinny_555/pseuds/Quinny_555'>Quinny_555</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Or Structure, Sam Winchester Loves Humanity, Sam Winchester is an Interesting Character, There's Not Much Here by Way of Plot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:15:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25030693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinny_555/pseuds/Quinny_555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A character study of sorts, I suppose. It mostly consists of my many miscellaneous thoughts about Sam Winchester's character.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey y'all, this whole thing was inspired by me thinking 'hmm, I wonder if Sam's scar aches like how I get a headache when it's about to rain.' It's just my miscellaneous thoughts about Sam's character. Regardless of the lack of structure or real plot, I hope that you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam could always tell when rain was imminent; the scar at the base of his back would ache. Sometimes he would tell Dean to bring an umbrella despite the weather forecast predicting clear skies. His brother would give him a strange look, but do what he said. He was always right. Dean didn't ask about it. It was one of those things that Sam would never mention but managed to still be something that he thought about often. One little piece of what made him Sam. </p><p>Sometimes he and Dean would stay somewhere that had an oven. Sam would bake cookies, always using the same recipe that Jess would use. When they moved into the bunker Sam continued to make cookies when he had time. The smell always made him think of her. It was bittersweet. He knew she would want him to move on; he would like to think that he had, mostly. He figured that the hole she left in his heart would always be there. He had made peace with that. It was just another part of him. </p><p>Sam had been clean for years. He would never forget the feeling that his drug of choice gave him. The power, the fury, the sense of helplessness that was hidden beneath the self-righteousness that never failed to accompany the high. He now knew that while he could do good with it, he didn't like the person it made him into. He didn't like being dependent on anything, especially not that. He didn't miss it. </p><p>Dean thought that after Sam quit the blood his powers disappeared. Sam knew that this wasn't the case. He could feel it; his abilities were there. They had always been there. He didn't use them much anymore. It was less of a lack of desire and more that he knew how Dean would feel about it. He was tired of fighting his brother. He figured it was better this way; what Dean didn't know wouldn't hurt him. And if the weapon he needed tended to fall closer within his reach than it probably should have, well. It was just a coincidence. </p><p>Sam didn't decorate his room. Dean decked his own room out, made the space his entirely. His brother always went all in. Sam knew that he craved a home. For a long time that home was just the Impala. Now he had claimed the bunker as another piece of his home. Sam, on the other hand, never had a home. He didn't need one. Really, he <em> didn't</em>. That was why he wouldn't personalize his room; it wasn't that he thought he didn't deserve it. It wasn't that he didn't even know where he would start. It wasn't that he was terrified of what could happen if he became complacent. It wasn't that he was sure that the second that he let himself get too comfortable the rug would be pulled out from under him like some cruel, cosmic prank. Really, it wasn't. He didn't let himself think about that. </p><p>Sam thought about the voicemail sometimes. It would sneak up on him at the most random moments. It was… strange how apathetic he was about it now. At the time it hurt so, <em> so </em>bad. He had been devastated. He had wondered for so long why Dean never followed through with what he promised. He wasn't exactly upset that Dean didn't do what he said he would. He wasn't exactly happy about it either. Now he just thought of it as one of those rough patches he and his sibling went through. He wondered if Dean ever thought about it. Probably not; it seemed as though things Sam thought were important just weren't to Dean. Maybe Dean just had a different way of showing what he thought was important. </p><p>Sam liked to talk things out. He was sure that he would be just as allergic to sharing his feelings as Dean was if not for Jess. Her parents were great and they had instilled in their daughter that the key to everything was communication. Sam absolutely agreed with that. He and Jess had talked about <em>everything</em>. Their feelings, their thoughts, their memories, what they liked, what they didn't like, among other things. Jess’s favorite color was yellow. She had a girlfriend in high school. She had a weird thing about driving South. She didn't like to think about the universe too much. When she was thirteen she used her dad’s clippers to shave almost all of her hair off. She was a surfer. She sang in the shower. She believed him when he told her about the supernatural. She knew how to protect herself against most monsters. They still killed her. </p><p>Sam carried a lot on his shoulders for a lot of his life. Rage. Grief. Hope. Memories. He learned that letting those things go made the load that much lighter. There was one thing that he could never seem to shake: the guilt. It was the heaviest of all, yet he could never seem to just let it go. Dean had once told his brother that he managed to feel guilty about things he didn't even know about. He felt guilty over his mother’s death; never making up with his father; Dean selling his soul; Jess’ death; releasing Lucifer (though over the years he began to realize that that was not solely his fault); every person that they failed to save; every vessel that got caught in the crossfire; every monster that they had to kill (even if it was just a subconscious feeling); Charlie; not closing the gates of Hell; the list goes on. He wondered if he would ever not feel guilty. </p><p>Sam liked meeting new people. Sure, Dean was charming, but he was more of an introvert than you would think. Sam liked making connections. Learning about people’s lives was something that had always interested him. Every person had their own unique thoughts, and feelings, and perspective, and it was really amazing. </p><p>On his morning runs, he always saw a teenage girl who would sit on her porch and play the ukulele. Her singing voice was beautiful. She never failed to smile and wave at him. </p><p>There was a coffee shop Sam stopped by every morning. It was owned by a def woman by the name of Jane. He was always happy to practice his sign. </p><p>There was a stand at the farmers market that sold homemade jam. It was run by a kind old man who fed any stray animals who wandered upon his path. He had stories for anyone who wanted to listen to them.</p><p>One of the local grocery store’s cashiers was a tired college kid who would give their employee discount to any sucker who happened to be having a worse day than them. Sam got that discount once or twice. </p><p>Lebanon Kansas was a small community full of interesting characters. So sure, he had to see the darkest pieces of the world through his job, but that just made the light parts a little brighter. He always smiled back at the girl who played the ukulele. He always signed for Jane to have a good morning. He always listened to the old man’s stories and asked after his grandchildren. He always told the cashier that they probably needed the discount more than he did, but thanked them for their kindness regardless. Sam hoped that he never lost the love he had for people. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading and any kudos or comments that you may leave! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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